


Pool party

by SunshineChildx



Series: 2020 Fódlan Summer Olympics [16]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth has a sad, F/F, Flayn is an angel, Fodlan Summer Olympics, Fódlan Olympics, Hurt/Comfort, Sports, Swimming, Synchronised Diving, Yuri & Jeritza are besties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineChildx/pseuds/SunshineChildx
Summary: Byleth has been working her whole life for this, but after so many failed opportunities to win the gold, she finds herself wondering why is she competing for? Why does she need this victory so hard? Even with the support of her family, friends and even Edelgard, Byleth struggles to find the answer.Yuri and Jeritza didn't have the greatest start of their friendship, but after working so hard together, they'll learn to lean on each other and trust their partner, their friend.Flayn's been granted the opportunity to make her family proud, and she's here to participate and have a ton of fun while swimming.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Series: 2020 Fódlan Summer Olympics [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881421
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Pool party

“Snap out of it.”

Byleth softly slaps her own face with cold hands.

She keeps walking, chewing the inside of her cheek. It’s Monday, but her head is still full of the events that happened during the weekend, the competitions she attended. She unlocks her phone and goes through her playlist, airpods loosely hanging from her ears; the metal wire fence is cold against her touch when she reaches the borders of the building.

The weekend has gone by faster than she could register. Today, she’s got another competition to win.

She knows the place pretty well by now, she’s spent hours training, competing, and cheering for her brother and friends for the past few days. Still, she catches sight of the swimming pool with the corner of her eye, and her heart flutters. Determination, fear, confidence. She just needs to push herself a little further today. A lot further. She needs to get the gold and have the audience chant her name.

It’s still really early, the competitors aren’t supposed to show up yet, which means she can take her time; even though Byleth never misses an opportunity to train hard. She makes herself feel like there’s no rush, speeding up her warm-up exercises won’t make the competition start sooner. If anything, it’d make her feel burnt out by the time she needs to get serious.

She covers a yawn with her hand as she walks into the locker room.

Byleth changes into her swimsuit, watches herself in the mirror. She takes in her well-defined muscles results of years of intense training, little banged up at the knees and elbows from past spills. Her hair recently cut a bit shorter, blue fading to teal at the tips.

She smiles to herself.

* * *

Byleth’s always liked the rush of competitiveness, the adrenaline in her veins and her muscles burning with the effort. Maybe that’s why she’s always been involved in many different sports, this Pentathlon proves it.

Equestrian is one of her favourites, being one with the horse and feeling the air cut through her as they make their way fast as lightning always makes her feel alive; shooting’s one activity she’s recently grown fond of, and she’s surprisingly good at it. Though it shouldn’t come as any surprise, she’s good at everything she puts her mind into. Or at least that’s what Jeralt says.

Still, swimming holds a special place in her heart. She couldn’t have been older than seven when she told her father she wanted to learn.

“I want to swim like you,” she had said one summer morning, watching her father come out of the pool and ruffle his wet hair.

“How? Like an old man?” He’d asked, stretching his arms and picking her up high.

Byleth had given him a tiny smile. “No. Like a winner.”

Maybe it’s a family thing.

* * *

It’s August, but it’s also early in the morning so the weather’s pretty chilly. Not that Byleth minds it much, she’s never been too bothered with the cold. Plus, soon enough she’ll be diving deep into the water. There’s no place for coldness or discomfort when she’s training.

The way the light hits the surface of the pool, the sun shyly set in the sky and the golden shadows it casts on the water feels so familiar to Byleth. A scenery she’s seen a million times before. It’s not always the same pool, the same centre, the same city. But it’s always the same chills down her back, the smell of chlorine, the muffled sounds above the water.

That’s good. She feels comfortable.

Byleth snaps her goggles over her eyes and blinks twice. She walks up to the tiles and feels the edge under her toes, correcting her posture. Then, she launches herself forward without any pause and dives into the water.

It hits her like a force, like she’s broken through a translucent wall, her hair is pushed back out of the way. Soon, the water is everywhere. It finds every angle of her body, fills all her curves and corners; up her nose, her ears, embracing her body like an old friend.

Her dives are strong, powerful, like she’s trying to prove her will to no one but herself. She wants this gold. She _needs_ this gold.

She’s started every morning before a competition like this. Practicing, training, giving her all. For her, winning the gold is much more than being better than her rivals. It’s the proof that her efforts have made sense, that she’s worth more than the endless training hours she’s been through. How many gold medals has she won? _None_.

_What does that say about her?_

Her dives are strong until they aren’t anymore. She slows down until it’s the water making her drift in the pool. She’s stopped.

Her legs feel heavy, like anchors. She lets them sink down below as she feels herself falling, dragged by their weight. She closes her eyes, feels the water sliding into her ears and muffling every sound outside of her own personal bubble. There’s nothing. Just her heartbeat, and her hair swirling around underwater, dancing on the space where there used to be gravity.

She’s spent so much time training - all of her life, really - that she hasn’t had much time left to think about what will happen if she doesn’t get what she’s come here for. The gold. It’s like she _needs_ it, for some dumb reason she can’t grasp.

And this pool is her next chance at getting it. It might be her last chance if she’s not careful enough. If she _fails_ -

She knows the whole world will be watching. Edelgard will be watching.

She’s always liked the simplicity of water, the calmness of the waves, the smell of chlorine. But now, the pool feels like a prison, a place Byleth can’t escape. Her chest feels empty; head absolutely bursting with the driven need to win, the _hollow_ reason behind it. _Why does she need this so bad?_

Byleth’s always liked being underwater far more time than she should, something that Sitri’s never liked too much. Despite all the training hours she’s had to spend in pools, the water tends to make Byleth forget what’s happening above it; the flood of it around her, cleansing her, cutting away all these thoughts that cloud her mind. With Jeralt’s help, Byleth’s learnt to focus her full attention on her swimming, like there isn’t anything more important than performing well - than _winning_.

But that isn’t working right now.

She’s falling. Her body inside the pool, her aching heart. She lets them both drag her down, deep. She isn’t sure how much time has passed.

Her lungs are burning, constricted. She needs to come up for air. The water fills her nostrils and mocks the oxygen in her veins, slips in through the corner of her mouth.

Byleth thinks of the tightness in her chest. Of her past competitions. Of the gold medal she desperately wants. Of Edelgard.

She lets her body sink deeper.

* * *

Byleth needs to shake these thoughts out of her head, to swallow the reminiscences. They’re doing nothing good to her before the competition.

She gets out of the pool before the water there or her own thoughts drown her. Whichever happens first.

She knew what she was getting into when she signed up for the Pentathlon. She knew how extremely demanding these competitions are, one harder than the last one, but she was prepared. Byleth’s lived and _breathed_ training. Her heart, her head, her body. She’s focused every sense, every fiber of her being into this Pentathlon, because she wants to do well. She _needs_ to do well, to win.

_Why, though?_

Byleth’s been avoiding that question for months. Why does she need this so bad? Why is she offering her life and all aspects of it for a competition? What does she gain out of it that makes up for all the sacrifices she’s made? What does she _need_?

It’s almost unhealthy.

Byleth has a pretty good life, she’s aware. Her parents, Jeralt and Sitri, love and support her deeply. Her brother, too. But there’s something missing, something she can’t grasp. A missing piece, a blank paper, a void she doesn't know how to fill.

She tells herself it’s the _gold_.

If Byleth wins the gold, everything will click into the right place. She’ll be content, she’ll find that rush of success and joy she might not have felt before. And if not, then maybe she’ll find that _something_ along the way, something she truly cares about.

Looking back, it’s not as if she’s had many challenges growing up. Byleth’s always been kind of a naturally incredible person, good at everything she puts her mind into, born under a lucky star. Much like her brother.

Maybe that’s what she’s trying to find. Something that only she has, that one thing that makes Byleth special and unique in the entire universe, even for a brief moment.

The _gold_.

Her eyes are burning, streams of water running down her eyes. It’s probably because of the chlorine. They aren’t tears, Byleth’s just ridiculously tired and frustrated. She’s glad there’s no one around.

* * *

When she steps out of the pool, she finds her parents waiting for her.

“Hey kiddo, looking sharp.” Jeralt says. “We were, uh - we want to wish you luck out there. Not that you need it. But you know.” She looks at the other competitors that are starting to arrive. “These people look buff as _hell_. So, you know. Keep an eye on them. And do your best.”

“Sure.” Byleth stretches her arms above her head. “Thank you.”

“What I mean is,” Jeralt goes on. “Do it like we practiced and you should be fine. These are professional swimmers and they have devoted their lives to one single sport unlike you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t put up a good show.”

Byleth frowns, meeting his eyes.

“That’s not helpful, sweetheart.” Sitri sighs.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous, you got this.” Jeralt scratches the back of his head. “You’re a really good swimmer, kiddo. Just don’t look at them too much. They’re really buff. _Seriously_ , how can a person - “

“I think that’s enough, my love.” Sitri shakes her head.

“I’m gonna do fine, I don’t need any pep talks.” Byleth brushes them off, looking away.

“We just wanted to make sure you know we’re rooting for you, Byleth.” Sitri palms her cheek. “We’re really proud of you.”

Byleth averts her gaze, heart clenching. “Thanks, mom.”

Jeralt opens his mouth again, but Byleth’s already walking towards the pool.

“Was that too bad?” Jeralt sighs.

“It was.” Sitri chuckles. All these years and she still finds her strong and stoic husband adorable in many ways. But her smile dies on her lips as she stares at her daughter’s back. “I think something’s off with her, Jeralt.”

* * *

It’s time.

Byleth catches sight of the pool. Everyone’s getting ready. Her eyes feel pricklier than she remembers them being minutes ago, but she convinces herself she doesn’t care. She can’t show any kind of emotion before the competition starts, she wants the other competitors to see her confident, resolved to steal that golden medal from their grasps. And she will. She can’t afford to let them glimpse what’s inside her head, it might cost her the win today. And she absolutely has to win. Right?

She’s in the outer lane on the right side of the pool. It’s a good spot because it’s the one closest to the cameras. From here it means everyone will be watching her race, swimming ahead of everyone else, winning the gold. That’s exactly how she wants things to be.

It’s still early but there’s a lot of people in the stands watching and cheering for their favourite competitor. Byleth knows that, somewhere inside that mass of people, Edelgard is standing. She’ll only have eyes for Byleth. That sends a rush of adrenaline down her back, and she has to physically stop herself from looking. She needs to _focus_.

All the swimmers are lined up, the edge of the pool right under their toes, almost dipping, ready to hear the sign and dive headfirst into the water. Byleth’s heart hammers behind her ears. She’s pressing her goggles tighter, biting her bottom lip, making sure everything’s exactly where it needs to be. She can’t let herself lose one competition more. At the same time, she’s having a raging fight against her nerves.

If she looks up, she can see the scoreboard from where she’s standing. It’s a big flat screen posted on the wall that’s furthest from the end of the swimming pool. Byleth can see all the swimmer’s faces, their names written below in a simple white font. The swimming competition has eight swimmers, Byleth among them.

The hosts start talking. Byleth’s eyes find Rhea, the retired boxer who’s won Olympic gold multiple times. Next to her, the man Byleth’s come to recognize as Seteth.

As they talk, Byleth can hear her heart beating behind her ears, the rush of blood muffling any other sound, the sweat on her hands. She’s used to the attention by now, she’s grown to be completely unbothered by it. Still, somewhere in the crowd, Edelgard’s eyes are focused on her, scanning her every move, cheering for her. That thought seems enough to make her feel both hot and cold at the same time.

She knows Edelgard would support her no matter what, she’s stated as much before, but she’s come home without a gold two times already and she’s promised herself she _has to_ do this. She needs to prove herself to everyone that’s staring at her right now, Edelgard included. That would make sense of everything, of how she’s devoted her life to training, of the missing piece in her chest. Right?

Jeralt had tried to give her a pep talk, but Byleth doesn’t really feel much better; or any different at all, for that matter.

Still, when the hosts take their seats to watch the competition, Byleth feels something new in her. Not new, this is a familiar feeling. She wants to _win_ the race. The desire to hold the gold medal in her hands, to hear the people chanting her name, to feel full and complete, burns every fiber of her being. It’s like someone had lit a match in the vault of her chest, the blood pumping on her veins exploding like summer fireworks and catching like gunpowder. It gets to her fingertips, her arms, legs, and toes, every angle of her silhouette.

She has everything she needs to win the gold, she _is_ everything she needs. Held carefully in her hands is the outcome of this race, her ability to cut the shape of the water with her arms, the strength of her every dive.

It’s everything she’s worked so hard for up until now. She wants the first place. No, she _needs_ it. She can’t give in to pressure or else she’ll never recover, she’ll never allow herself to live it down. She’s learned to push the pressure beyond her limits, shatter every physical barrier, and always get further, better. This time will be no different. Byleth will put her life on the line for that gold.

Then, the siren sounds.

That’s the signal. The race has started.

As she dives into the water, her fingers splice through the surface with rehearsed accuracy. When she resurfaces, she’s not even surprised that she’s holding the lead already. But she can’t get cocky for a great start, she needs to make a great race altogether, so she pushes herself further with every powerful stroke.

Everything’s happening so fast, the race as well as the raging thoughts inside her head. Her head breaks the surface again and she breathes, her lungs burning at the contact with the cool air above. Byleth feels her whole body move in uniform harmony, but the other swimmers are reaching her at increasing speed. They won’t surpass her, will they? She tries not to let those thoughts distract her performance, so she forces her body to work on overdrive. Through her veins, the adrenaline fuels every muscle, her determination the only thing that pushes her further as the water blurs the contours of the world around her.

Her legs work as fast as she can make them, her breath catches in her throat; the pressure on every part of her makes her feel like she might choke any minute now. But she needs to keep going.

For a few minutes, that’s all she does.

The swimmer in the sixth lane flies past her. Byleth feels her chest burning, her fingers cutting through the water like air. She can’t lose. She _can’t_.

It’s like water is all she knows, all she’s ever known. It’s all around her, below her, above her, adjusting to all her angles and curves, wrapping her in its cold hug as she cuts through it and makes her way to the final line.

She can see the wall, it’s right in front of her.

She’s still behind the woman in the line six but she can still make it. She allows herself one millisecond to look out of the corner of her eye. There’s someone getting dangerously close to her, probably the swimmer in the line two or three. But besides that everyone else is so far behind she can’t see them. That’s good.

She pushes herself to her limit, all her muscles aching as she forces them to fight the currents against her body.

One final push. One final push. _One final push_.

The wall is right there, she can see it through her tight goggles. Her limbs protest for the extreme amount of effort she’s pushing them to keep up, arms and legs cutting through the water achingly - _desperately_. Byleth doesn’t even surface for air, that’d be seconds lost and she still needs to make it. There’s a desperation to her actions, her lungs set aflame.

She squeezes every last bit of adrenaline in her muscles and surges her body forward towards the wall. Out of the corner of her eyes, a flash of splashed water launches up ahead faster.

Her hand hits the wall and it’s almost painful, her head finally making it out of the water above the surface. Her mouth opens and her lungs expand painfully as the fresh air finally fills her inside. Her limbs are so numb she doesn’t even register how she takes the goggles off. She blinks once, twice, _panting_ , and the smell of chlorine fills her nostrils.

She looks up at the screenboard and her ocean eyes grow wide.

* * *

“Miss Hresvelg,” Anna, the reporter, says as she approaches Edelgard in the audience, cameras following closely behind. “You don’t have any competition scheduled for today. Is there a special reason you’re here in the stadium right now?”

Edelgard fakes a smile. “Yes. I’m here to show my support to my friend Byleth. She’s competing today.”

“Miss Hresvelg, are you close with Miss Eisner?”

“We are friends, so.” She suppresses a blush. “I’d say so myself, yes.”

“What do you think of her performance so far? She hasn’t won any gold medals like she said she would. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

Edelgard frowns. She doesn’t like Anna’s tone. “Byleth is trying her best, and I’m certain her efforts will pay off. She’s worked extremely hard for this.”

“You certainly think highly of Miss Eisner.” Anna’s smile is mischievous. “ Is there more to it that the public doesn’t know?”

“What? No.” She shakes her head, cheeks coloured crimson. “As an athlete, I deeply respect her and - “

“Miss Hresvelg, what are your thoughts on her swimming performance?” Anna interrupts her.

“Yeah, how are you liking the competition, Edie?” Dorothea jumps into the conversation, having just finished signing autographs for her fans. Edelgard doesn’t know if she’s relieved to have her back or not. “I’m sure you’re really enjoying it.”

“Well yes, I am.” Edelgard says and sees Dorothea’s smile grow wider. “Not like that! I’m only here to support her.”

“Only to support her? You mean you’re not here to see her tight muscles dripping wet, how she pushes the water around her body, her legs - “

“That’s enough, Dorothea!” Edelgard flushes. “I’m her friend. I want to show her my support. There’s no more to it, I assure you.”

Anna finds an opening. “Are you saying you attend your friends’ competitions to support them, Miss Hresvelg?”

“Yes, of course. If I have the chance and the time, then I try to be present.”

“What’s your current relationship with Miss Hilda Goneril?” Anna smiles.

“We’re friends now.” Edelgard flushes red. “We’ve talked about this and we’re good. I don’t see why I should explain - ”

“I think those are enough questions.” Dorothea intervenes. “My friend here can’t enjoy the race. If you’ll be so kind, please leave us.”

They argue, but thanks to Dorothea’s persuasive nature the reporters finally leave.

“Thank you.” Edelgard sighs, rubbing her temples. “These reporters were getting awfully personal.”

Dorothea shrugs. “They just wanted the juicy details. Can’t say I’d do any different.”

“But it’s not as if my relationship with Hilda was public property.” Edelgard says. “She and I are good now. We got closure.”

“Relax, Edie. I’m not asking for details. At least not _yet_.” She smirks. “What do you really think of Byleth, though?”

“I think… I think she’s a brilliant athlete. She’s strong and will-driven.” Edelgard’s eyes are sparkling. “And I believe in her, she’ll get her gold sooner or later.”

“But don’t you think there’s something _off_ about her today?” Dorothea turns her eyes to the pool.

“Yes. I thought it was me being paranoid, but you see it too.” Edelgard’s face grows darker as she clenches her fists. “I wish I could do something.”

Dorothea lifts her gaze towards the pool.

“Something tells me you already are doing something, Edie. Just being here today.” 

* * *

Byleth’s hand hits the wall, the clean tiles of the pool receiving the slap soundly. She hears people cheering outside but she can’t grasp the words.

She resurfaces, her head rising above the water.

When she looks up at the screen board, her eyes grow wide.

She’s lost.

The woman in the sixth line is smiling wide on every screen, getting out of the pool eagerly as she knows she’s won the gold medal.

Byleth wasn’t aware, but the repetitions on the screens show her that she’s been surpassed in the last possible second.

She’s won the bronze medal.

She’s lost the gold.

She’s _lost_.

 _She didn’t make it_.

_It was all a waste of time._

Byleth stays idly in place, watching as the other swimmers get out of the pool. She sweeps her hair out of the way and her chest feels hollow. Hollow in a way that _hurts_.

She places her hands on the edge of the pool, about to lift herself out when she sees someone’s already there. Byleth looks up and finds Jeralt, his big and calloused hand tended towards her.

She lets him lift her out but refuses to meet his stare when they’re face to face. Jeralt’s face is unreadable but his eyes are soft. Byleth doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say.

“Byleth - ”

“Miss Eisner!” A reporter finds his way between Byleth and her father. “You medaled in the race! And none other than a bronze medal! How do you feel about your performance!”

 _How do I feel?_ Byleth’s confused for a second. _I didn’t win the gold. I failed._

Another reporter approaches her, camera following up close.

“It’s highly unusual for a non-pure athlete to medal in these kinds of high-level competitions! If our information is right, you’re competing in a Pentathlon, isn’t that correct, Miss Eisner?”

“That’s right.” Byleth hears her voice before knowing she’d opened her mouth. Her chest feels _tight_.

“Such an impressive achievement you’ve made here! You won the bronze medal against _pure_ swimmer athletes. You must be feeling quite proud of yourself!”

“How does it feel to be part of the elite?”

“You’re taking a bronze medal home in a masterful display of swimming abilities. What are your thoughts, Miss Eisner?”

“Care to share some words?”

“I - “ Byleth starts. Her vision is getting blurry. “I’m sorry.”

She feels sick, _really_ sick.

She needs to get out of there right now.

* * *

Byleth doesn’t know where her legs are taking her until she arrives at the locker room, her mind too clouded.

She needs noise to cover her tangled thoughts inside. She needs a distraction.

She gets in the shower, turning on the water and letting it fall on her shoulders and down her back. Byleth sighs heavily as she wets her hair down, fingers pressed against her scalp. She washes her hair and body slowly, trying to keep her mind as numb as possible. As her hands massage her hair, the intensity of the lost race suddenly makes Byleth feel out of breath, her vision growing blurry, and she feels her legs growing weaker.

Byleth remembers the sound of her name being chanted over and over again by the audience, the sweet taste of victory sitting on her tongue. She’s devoted her life to compete and she’s really good at what she does. She’s made herself a renowned name over the years. She’s got dozens of medals that prove it.

Then, _why does she feel like a failure?_

Byleth tries to ignore the sentiment, hoping that maybe if she can keep it at bay for long enough, she’ll get used to the feeling.

But as she presses her back to the cold shower wall to keep herself from fainting, she realizes that’s everything but realistic. She feels herself falling and reaches out with one hand, trying to find something to hold onto. Next thing she knows, she’s kneeling down onto the shower floor, her eyes burning and her throat growing tight. The pressure in her chest drags the uneasiness to her stomach; Byleth feels like she’s gonna throw up. Her breath is faltering, but the only things that come up are sobs.

So she lets them come.

* * *

She cries until she's empty, hollow inside. Her eyes ache and her body is sore and heavy; she stays there in the same position, too exhausted to move. Byleth tenses as she hears footsteps approaching the bathroom door outside the sound of the running water above her head. Edelgard’s the first person that comes to mind. She doesn’t want her to see her like this. But it’s not Edelgard.

“Byleth? Are you okay?”

It’s Sitri’s voice.

“Are you hurt?” Sitri asks. 

Byleth’s heart hammers faster because she’s everything but presentable right now. Sitri is her mother and she sounds really concerned, but Byleth’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be strong. A winner.

“I’m going to come in, okay?”

“I’m fine.” Byleth says, clears her throat quietly before the tears can build. “I’m fine, mom. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back in a second.”

But her mother, as expected, doesn’t listen.

She opens the door and closes it behind her. Thankfully, everyone’s too busy getting ready for the medal ceremony that they won’t bother coming in right now.

Sitri closes the distance between them and helps Byleth up without saying much. Byleth doesn’t meet her gaze, too embarrassed of her position to open her mouth. And honestly, what can she even say? She’s supposed to be happy about her performance. She’s done well. Right?

As Sitri places a towel around Byleth, she asks, "Is it because of the competition?"

 _Yes_. "No."

Byleth folds herself in the towel’s embrace. Maybe if she curls small enough she can make herself disappear.

“Then what is it?” Sitri doesn’t push, but Byleth stays silent. Eyes closed and biting her bottom lip, maybe she can escape the world for a few seconds. She doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to disappoint her mother. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Nothing.

“Byleth, I’m proud of - ”

Byleth can’t hear this right now. She really can’t. She doesn’t deserve these words, this praise.

She snaps.

"You want to know why I'm here? Well, here's your answer: I'm here because I’ve failed myself. I was supposed to get it right this time and win the gold, and I couldn’t even get silver. So I'm here, feeling sorry for myself because I don't feel the way I should about winning any medal against ‘pure’ athletes. All this praise feels hollow. I don’t feel I’ve done enough." Byleth closes her eyes tight, shutting the tears behind her eyelids.

“Honey, you’ve done your best. You’ve won a medal against people who’ve worked harder and longer at this than you. That’s something to be proud of.” Byleth’s gaze finds her and Sitri looks into her eyes for a long moment. Byleth’s expression is still fragile. “I understand your disappointment, but I don’t want you to lose yourself over this.”

Byleth looks away. She’s always wanted her family to be proud of her and to share in her victories, but she’s worked this hard for herself. She needed to win for herself. Byleth is _no one_ if she isn’t the winner. She needs to be herself again.

“I know, I get that.” Byleth says, her voice small. “I just don’t… feel like I did as well as everyone’s telling me. I try and try and _try_ but it’s never enough.” She closes her eyes and sighs, hands curled around her towel, around herself. “I don’t know if it’s ever going to feel like enough.”

Sitri brushes her fingertips through Byleth’s hair and softly pulls her into a hug.

"Do you remember the first time you had a swimming competition when you turned ten? You were so nervous that both your father and I had to walk you to the pool holding your hands. You didn’t even get in the top three, but you were so happy that you did it and you made a lot of friends. I was so proud. You stayed up all night with your brother telling him everything. Do you remember?”

The memories flit in, and Byleth slowly relaxes into her mother's shoulder, fighting tears but not knowing why.

She hates herself and how easily her feelings grow from bottled-up rage to sorrow, her self-pity, her frozen inability to achieve more. This isn’t who she is, not who she’s meant to be. But it still feels good to be in her mother's arms somehow.

“I remember. He wanted to go to sleep but I kept talking to him. I just felt _so good_.” Byleth smiles softly before the sentiment vanishes. “I must’ve lost that feeling at some point.”

“You’re not only competing here, you’re doing so much more, sweetheart.” Sitri’s voice is soothing. Byleth finds herself breathing easier. “You’ve worked harder than any of those swimmers.”

Byleth nods, looking at her hands, her wrinkled fingertips. "I was prepared to offer my blood and sweat to this Pentathlon; but honestly, I didn't prepare to offer my tears."

“Your father also cried a lot when he was younger and still competing, you knew that?” Sitri chuckles.

“No way.” Byleth’s lips curve into a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, he’d often get frustrated, too, when he didn’t have the results he wanted.” Sitri shrugs. “Do you know what he did?”

Byleth tilted her head, eyes focused on her mother.

“He kept pushing through. He knew who he was, and he’s always been a winner. Just like you.” She smiles at her daughter, her ocean eyes big and hopeful again. “You’ll win the gold if you believe in yourself, my love.”

Byleth lets Sitri brush her bangs away from her eyes with an easy touch, palm coming to rest against her cheek.

“You’re right, mom.” Byleth says softly. “This isn’t me.”

“That’s more like it.” Sitri says. “Now, the medal ceremony is about to start. Come with me?”

Byleth swallows, angry with herself for the tears that rise to her eyes. "I can't. I can't go out there."

“I’ll give it five minutes until someone comes here looking for you.” Sitri smirks, giving her daughter some space to calm down. “You sure have a lot of fans.”

“Shut up.” Byleth smiles. “That’s not true.”

“You are an Olympic medalist. You’re someone special, Byleth.”

_Someone special._

Her mother is right, she’s done so much more than just this competition. She’s so much more than a score. And her value is way more than a bronze medal.

And she’s got her whole life ahead of her.

 _There’s no rush_ , the thought comes to her like a calming wave, and suddenly the world doesn’t seem so heavy on her shoulders. _You’ll win the gold if you believe in yourself._

She could try that.

Byleth settles closer and lets Sitri take her hand; she threads their fingers together. Byleth’s voice seems so soft after the hurt that has colored it only minutes before. "I guess a bronze isn’t that bad after all."

“Not at all.” Sitri smiles. “Now that it’s just the two of us here, tell me: there’s a certain _special someone_ , isn’t there?”

Byleth flushes.

“There isn’t. Why would you say that?”

“You kept looking at the audience.” Sitri rolls her eyes. “Does that someone have to do with you feeling all of this?”

“Okay… maybe Edelgard was there in the audience. Cheering for me.” The confession hangs in the air, as if she’d spilled it by accident; a drink, a glass, a _blush_. “It’s so stupid. I’m an athlete. I’m supposed to do better than getting nervous over someone coming to see me perform, I know.”

“I was around your age when I met Jeralt.” Sitri smiles fondly at her blushing daughter, who avoids her gaze. "Do you like this Edelgard?"

"Yes." Byleth gives away a little bit of herself with that word. She wonders if Sitri notices that.

“Then get out there and show her your best smile when you receive your medal.”

Byleth thinks of standing on the podium with her bronze medal hanging from her neck, flashing a smile towards the audience, knowing that it’s only meant for Edelgard’s eyes. Will she be happy if she does that for her?

Byleth wants to see her. She gets up.

In the end, Byleth is still nervous to face the audience. But her chest doesn’t hurt anymore, and the sick feeling in her stomach is gone. She feels numb, sore, and heavy; but also better, somehow.

* * *

  
  


The audience grows quiet when Yuri and Jeritza stand at the platform.

The stadium is big. There’s not an overwhelming crowd, but Yuri knows the international television will be there to witness their every move, and that’s enough to make his lips curve into a smirk. He plans on giving a good show.

Yuri can hear the commentators talking about them and the other contestants while he and Jeritza get ready to perform. He hasn’t bothered in trying to remember his competitor’s names. He plans on reading his own name at the top of the scoreboard when it’s all over.

The competition has five rounds. They’ll do basic dives during the first two rounds, and then they’ll dive more complex freestyle dives from the third to the fifth round. He and Jeritza had trained really hard for this, his muscles knew every movement by heart, and Yuri isn’t one to be cowered in the midst of pressure. He’s planning on taking the gold home.

There are two types of judges. One is a technical judge who evaluates the degree of completion of their dives; and the others are synchro judges who evaluate the synchronization of the two divers. He’s practiced hard enough to be synchronized with Jeritza. _Will it be enough?_

They’re standing in the platform, ten meters away from the ground and the water, several feet apart from each other. Their swimsuits stick to their bodies like wet paper. The audience is waiting.

 _Everything’s quiet up here_ , Yuri thinks. If he looks up he can see the outline of the city, the blue sky above the stadium, and the rustling of the trees in the park that’s right next to it. Next to him, Jeritza looks completely expressionless, his blank stare piercing beyond the pool in front of them, beyond the scoreboard and every single person in the crowd. Yuri suppresses a smile. He might fool the audience into thinking he’s deeply focused, but Yuri’s spent enough time with him to know that this blank stare is his usual expression. He’s not even a little bit bothered by the challenge. If Yuri wasn’t so sure of himself, he’d be a bit jealous.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

_Breathe in._

They take three steps towards the edge of the platform. They turn around, then take half a step back.

Yuri can feel the border of the platform ending, the heel of his foot with nothing but open air under it. He doesn’t even look at Jeritza one more time as he closes his eyes, raising his arms in a V shape.

_Breathe out._

They jump in complete synchrony, feeling the race of the cold atmosphere against their skin as they cut through the air, gravity leading them down headfirst.

When Yuri’s hands collide with the surface of the pool, breaking the quietness of it, and as the water swallows every curve and edge of his body, he thinks of Jeritza.

* * *

It’s the middle of July and Yuri’s just come out of the sports centre’s showers, his swimsuit tight against his skin and he’s already sweating again.

He spends his mornings there. Swimming and swimming and _swimming_ until his arms feel like noodles and his stomach rumbles for something more than an energy drink from the sports centre’s vending machine. If Hapi knew of this habit, she’d never let him live it down.

He’s about to enter the pool again when he notices someone there. It’s not as if he cares for every stranger that practices in the pool, it’s just that Yuri knows every face that frequents the centre, yet this one was new. If Yuri was a cat, curiosity would’ve killed him a hundred times over, he thinks as he approaches the pool, eyes focused on the stranger’s every move.

He doesn’t seem like he’s noticed Yuri at all. He’s not surprised, Yuri’s the most stealthy person he himself can think of. The man’s dives are strong, he’s pushing the water aside with his muscular arms shining wet under the sports centre’s artificial lights, breaking the surface like a meteor tearing through the atmosphere, leaving a trail of turbulent water and waves. But it’s not all about strength, that alone doesn’t make a good swimmer. It’s how _precise_ his movements are. Like every muscle in his body knows exactly how much water should it cover to make him push through the pool like that, his mind in perfect control of every action, every limb. He’s in perfect synchrony with the water.

_Synchrony._

Yuri makes a bold decision.

“Hey, you.”

He calls the stranger when he’s back at the edge of the pool, pushing the wet curls of blond hair out of his face, snapping the goggles out. His ice-blue eyes pierce through Yuri with a stoic expression. A chill runs down Yuri’s back, but he curves his lips into a smirk.

“You and I are going to compete in the Olympics,” he says. “And we’re going to win the gold.”

* * *

Round three.

This time they’re going to perform a forward 3 and a half somersault. They’ve already performed the basic dives during the first two rounds and that’s granted them some really good scores; now the dives will be more complex freestyle from this third round to the fifth. If they keep this high intensity up, they can easily win the gold. Yuri’s hopeful.

They take their place again on the platform, the green surface of the pool awaits for them below and every single person in the crowd is holding their breath, but he knows that Jeritza’s breathing must be calm as ever. That’s soothing in a way, Yuri thinks. Knowing that his partner will stay unbothered despite the situation. It makes him feel there’s no reason to be nervous. They should dive and perform exactly like they practice back home and that’s it. That’s enough to grant them the gold.

That’s why, when he looks at him from the corner of his eye, something stirs in Yuri as he sees a slight emotion coloring Jeritza’s face.

_Breathe in._

There’s no time to think about it.

_Breathe out._

They’re several feet from the edge of the platform, unlike the other rounds. This time, they close the distance taking some rhythmic steps. Halfway through a step and a jump. It almost looks like they’re dancing. Except Jeritza’s limbs don’t move with his usual graciousness. As if he was performing by muscle memory and not from the heart.

One, two, _three_.

They jump off the edge and twirl in the air.

One, two, three, _four_ times.

Yuri closes his eyes as he feels the world revolve around itself at dizzying speed; his body the only thing that remains still in the changing world for less than a second, suspended in the air by gravity as his weight is dragged down and his hands break through the surface of the pool, all of his limbs following after.

All sounds are muffled when he’s underwater, not needing to be in synchrony with his partner in the warm embrace of the water anymore. For a split second, Yuri stays with his eyes closed, thinking about Jeritza’s conflicted expression, the slight rigidness of his movements, so unlike him.

* * *

“What’s the matter, Yuri?” Constance asks one day as they walk past the sports centre’s doors, another day of training behind them.

“Yeah, you’ve been moodier than usual today.” Balthus says, stretching his arms over his head.

“Watch your words, I’m never moody.” Yuri replies, gaze piercing and sharp.

“B is right, tho. Something’s been troubling you, hasn’t it?”

Yuri shakes his head. “You worry too much.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Constance frowns, walking ahead of the three of them. “It is our duty as friends to provide quality advice and assistance to each other during treacherous times. Do confide in us more, Yuri!”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “It’s about swimming practice, that’s all. Now can we, please, move on to another subject?”

“Troubles with Mister Stoic Face?” Hapi asks.

“Is that what you’re calling him, now?” Yuri mocks.

“I mean, you kinda jumped right off to ask him to be your plus one for synchronized diving. You hardly knew him.” Balthus says, shrugging his big shoulders.

Constance shakes her head. “Now then, you may call yourself his partner you wish, and he shall attend your practices together. But none of this charade will make the idea of a stranger being your _real_ partner any less absurd.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuri asks.

“I think that what Coco means to say is that you can’t expect to be really in synchrony with him when you barely know him.” Hapi points, dragging her words as if she was tired of the conversation already.

“You could find another partner,” Balthus suggests. “Why does it have to be him, anyway?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I play my cards wisely. I wouldn't play if there wasn't any hope of winning, and I know that with him there’s a high chance I win the gold. It has to be him.”

“Hmph. Say whatever you like, if it makes you feel better.” Constance adds.

“I know just the thing you need, pal.” Balthus smiles. “Bring him over tonight! Get to know him better outside of the pool.”

Yuri sighs. “There you go being a nuisance again. I don't think that's a good idea, but thanks.”

“Come on. It might be fun.” Hapi says.

“As opposed as I am to bring such a stoic man with no manners to our table, I believe Balthus is correct. Surprisingly.” Constance concedes. “You mustn't be discouraged. It is hard to maintain one's patience after unsuccessful training sessions. But perhaps establishing a friend bond with him might result in better performances.”

Balthus raises his fist in the air. “It’s settled, then! Dinner with Jeritza tonight!”

“You all seem adamant, so… I'll invite him.” Yuri sighs. “Won't hurt to try, things can’t go any more south.”

* * *

“Must you two turn everything into a competition!?”

Constance sighs loudly, several people at the restaurant turn their heads towards them. It’s a small place, so it’s hard to miss them.

Constance places her hands on her hips. “First it was who eats more pastries, then who knows more swimming techniques, then the darts at the back of the bar and now _this_!”

“I’ll admit this is my favourite one so far, Coco.” Hapi giggles. “Emi definitely can drink his sorbet faster than Yuri.”

“Emi?” Jeritza raises his head, his blonde hair falling off his back unceremoniously.

“You said your name was Emile, right?” Hapi points. “So, you’re Emi.”

“I hate it.” He says, the word _hate_ rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

“In his defense, I’ll say that I don’t like it either.” Yuri says, looking at Jeritza’s pink sorbet. “How can you drink so fast? Despite all I've done, I’m still losing these stupid bets against you.”

Emile shrugs. “I have a sweet tooth.”

“That is certainly surprising. Though you still lack manners, as I had already perceived.” Constance says. Jeritza stays silent.

“He really is kicking your ass here, pal.” Balthus places his elbows on the table, his smile wide and funny.

“Shut it.” Yuri says, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Balthus pretends to be hurt. “Wow. Cold as ice. You know I was just joking, yeah?”

“Despite what you all think of me right now, I'm still the best swimmer out of the two of us.” Yuri says, looking at Jeritza and pointing a finger at him. Playful or serious, Jeritza doesn’t care. “Don't go forgetting that.”

“It matters not to me, one way or the other. I want to win the gold.”

“Is it always like this with you two? Getting fired up and competing against each other?” Balthus asks, rubbing his neck.

Hapi tilts her head. “Emi’s pretty chill, but Yuri sure is fired up, B.”

“I’m not.” Yuri huffs. “I’m the calmer one here.”

“Ha! If only that were humanly possible for you.” Balthus laughs loudly.

“I think they really _synchronized_ with each other.” Hapi says.

Everyone turns to look at her, confused.

“I was being sarcastic. Keep up.” She sighs. “I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s a bad thing that they compete against each other. That way they’re always trying to be the best they can be, if that makes sense.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem if they keep training together. You’re okay with that, right, pal?” Balthus says, looking at Emile’s ice-cold eyes.

“I suppose…” Jeritza shrugs, turning to face Yuri. “My swimming is the same as it always has been. But I am curious as to why you want to keep training with me.”

“I chose you and I stand by my decision. It'd take a lot for you to get rid of me.” Yuri says, the curve of his lips drawing a smirk. “I was born under a particularly lucky star.”

“There may be some truth to that.” Jeritza says.

“A smile? Spreading across Emile’s face? Now that is a rare blossom indeed.” Constance exclaims.

* * *

Round five.

_The last round._

Jeritza and Yuri are in pike position, waiting for the crowd to grow silent, finding their positions on top of the platform.

This time they’ll be performing a back two and a half somersault with one and a half twists. The most difficult trick yet, but Yuri’s not nervous. He’s feeling everything but.

They take several steps, turn back and take one step back, the edge of the platform leaving nothing between the heel of his shoes and the open air below. There’s the rush of adrenaline before the jump, the split second when there’s nothing but silence and the presence of Emile next to him.

Yuri raises his arms in a V position.

He takes off, and for a vivid moment, it feels like he’s flying.

Then, he twists his body in a pirouette and twirls, twirls, _twirls_ in the air, all his muscles focused and _synchronized_. The world wraps itself as Yuri feels the sun flying one, two times in a spiral motion above his head.

Then, his body collides with the surface of the pool, the water filling his eyes, ears, nose, and all the curves of his body.

 _It’s over_ , he thinks as he resurfaces, hair splashed across his forehead despite having a bun at the back of his head.

_The competition’s over._

_Did we win the gold?_

Yuri sees Jeritza resurface and climb out of the pool. He finds his icy gaze and sees his reflection in it. Then, they both look at the scoreboard.

* * *

The night before the competition the air blows warm against’s Yuri’s neck. He’s glad he chose a tank top and light clothing to avoid the heat, even if the sun’s already nowhere to be seen. He fidgets with his fingers as he watches people pass by, sitting on a bench in the park that’s closest to his house.

 _Waiting_.

“You came.” Yuri says when he feels the hair of his neck bristle. Cold.

“You called.” He says, simply.

Yuri turns to face him, finds Jeritza’s blue eyes. “I'm sure you already know where this is headed.”

“Yes.”

“Heh. Always straight to the point with you. I should know that by now.” He stretches his arms above his head. “Well... here we go, then. I want to know I can count on you tomorrow.”

Emile raises an eyebrow. “Why bother asking?”

“I know we aren’t exactly the partners that get along the best. And even though we’ve trained a lot, we still have differences between us that are hard to tackle.”

Jeritza glares at him, wonders if it’s insecurity or mistrust in his partner’s voice.

“And? Are you afraid of failing? Or... do you doubt me?”

“On the contrary.” Yuri shakes his head. “At this point, I do have to admit that I… I can count on you. I kinda get the sense that if I compete with you, that dream I've been grasping for, to reach the gold, will become all the more real. So do me a favor and don't go embarrassing me tomorrow, got it?”

“My diving is nothing but impeccable.” Jeritza narrows his eyes. “You say you can count on me, yet you look unsure. I could not care less, but I despise dishonesty.”

Yuri frowns. “Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind?”

Emile crosses his arms above his chest, his irises cold as daggers. But there’s something warm inside, something bright. A motive, a goal, a _dream_.

“Partner or obstacle. That's what you're still trying to determine.” Jeritza says, looking at Yuri. “But you won't find answers merely with words. There is only one path forward. Swim with me, if you have the nerve. Step in the platform tomorrow and dive with me. If you want to know my heart, know my swimming.”

Yuri’s lips curve into a smirk. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

* * *

The medal ceremony is over.

Despite aiming for the gold, Yuri and Emile stood proudly as they received their silver medals, wearing the same uniform, arms held behind their backs. They bowed their heads and shook hands as they felt the weight of the medal hanging on their necks. It was a good kind of heaviness. As people clapped at them, _for_ them, Emile found himself smiling; and Yuri felt the vault of his chest light up like a match, pride drowning his veins and making him feel dizzy in the head.

“The competition has ended, and yet this incessant swatting at flies never ceases.” Jeritza says when it’s all over, hiding away from reporters and sharing drinks they bought from a vending machine. “We have yet to claim our moment to stand holding the gold, it seems.”

“I’m still not giving up on that dream.” Yuri takes a sip of his can. “But this isn’t so bad, friend.”

 _Friend_.

“Yes…” Jeritza nods to himself. “I do not regret accepting your offer, _friend_.”

“We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Yuri indulges a smile. “And here I thought I was just a heartless competitor in your eyes. Wait until Balthus hears about this.”

“Don’t ruin it.” Jeritza growls. “At least until we win the gold next time.”

“Heh. Certainly aren't lacking in confidence, are you?”

“I’m not.” Jeritza shakes his head. “In the meantime, continue to strengthen your diving techniques.”

* * *

_It’s hot in here_.

That’s the first thought that comes to Flayn’s head as she steps inside where she’ll be competing for the Olympics. She’ll be doing indoor swimming. It feels extremely surreal.

Flayn has spent the past seven years of her life training. Despite being one of the youngest contestants, she’s a natural at what she does. She’s spent half her life in the water, and the other half thinking of getting back in. Everything grows quiet when the competition’s about to start.

She watches the other swimmers pacing around her, others are having a last-minute talk with their trainers, others are praying. Flayn’s just focused on breathing. It’s her first time competing in such an important event as the Olympics, so saying she’s nervous would be an understatement. She tries to not make eye contact and to think of the words Rhea said to her right before she set off to the changing room.

_You’re more than ready for this. You can do this. Your father and I will be cheering for you._

Flayn isn’t sure if that was a fair thing to say, considering that Rhea’s one of the hosts. Flayn remembers attending her matches with her father Seteth, the other host, when Rhea hadn’t retired from boxing yet. She wonders if she will ever be as bright as Rhea was when she was under the spotlight. To be fair, she barely made it to the finals.

Despite the nervousness, Flayn’s excited. She’s worked so hard to get here and she’s going to give it her all. For everyone that’s supported her all this time.

200 metres. She can do this.

When the hosts indicate it’s time, Flayn goes to the front of the line. All the other swimmers are lined up. She feels the edge of the pool under her toes, ready to dive headfirst into the water. She doesn’t look at the other competitors; instead, she focuses on making sure she’s ready. Swimming cap on, goggles surely secured and her swimsuit tightly adjusting to every curve and stretch of her body. She shakes out her limbs a bit, keeping her muscles loose, and then her breath evens out. She’s ready.

Flayn takes a second to look up at the stands. Seteth and Rhea are in the hosts’ section, her father tightly holding Rhea’s hand. He looks more nervous than Flayn herself, but Rhea’s smile is confident and bright, like it’s giving her strength to put up a good show.

The whistle blows.

It’s started.

She jumps, diving hands first into the water.

Her fingertips cut the water like knives in _freestyle_ motions, Flayn’s never been more in control of her muscles and body like she is now. Dive, stroke, _breathe_ . Dive, stroke, _breathe_. Flayn can hear her heart beating behind her ears, the rush of the water splitting around her, muffling any other sound, the fire in her lungs.

Her head breaks the surface again for air. She can see the first wall up ahead, not far; she turns, making her body spiral in the water as her world twirls into itself, tilts several degrees. She kicks off the wall and the ghost of the tiles stays achingly on her feet for a few seconds as she propels herself forward.

Flayn’s legs work as fast as they can, she pushes herself further with every powerful stroke as she drives herself to the limit. She doesn’t see much splashing of water beside her so she’s guessing they’re behind. That’s good news that she uses to fuel herself further.

Through her tight goggles, Flayn can see the final wall up ahead. Her limbs ache and twitch as she strokes harder, the water drifting away from her with strength, cutting through the waves like swords. Strongly, _achingly_.

Her hand hits the wall when she’s almost out of breath, the unreleased air caught in her throat making her feel light in the head. She breaks the surface of the water as her lungs expand, breathing heavily. Her heart hammers against her ribs, the adrenaline still kicking in.

_Did she medal?_

Her stomach is tickling with butterflies as she evens her breathing again, limbs drifting softly in the agitated water. It’s her first time competing at the Olympics, so she hasn’t really thought of swimming to win. Flayn’s already happy just being here, proving to herself she’s good enough for the Olympics, seeing the happiness in her father’s eyes when she told him she’d been qualified. _But what if she did medal?_ The wishful thought makes her feel dizzy again. She makes a silent promise to herself, to be grateful no matter what the result is. Flayn’s proud of making it this far already.

She rips her goggles and cap off of her head and places them on solid ground next to the pool. Her green hair shining wet and bright as it cascades over the tiny slope of her shoulders and back, heart beating hard as she waits for the results to flash on the scoreboard.

She looks up at the hosts for a split second. Seteth’s eyes are tightly closed, one hand still gripping Rhea’s and the other with crossed fingers. Flayn smiles, then looks back at the screen.

She feels her mouth drop open.

Her name.

That’s her name in the third place.

Third place, that means bronze.

She medalled bronze.

_She medalled!_

Flayn climbs out of the water and Seteth’s already there. He wraps her tightly in his arms and chokes out some unintelligible gibberish. Flayn chokes on a chuckle, her eyes wet and blurry and not because of the chlorine. She feels tears of joy running down her already wet cheeks as she tightens the hug. Seteth breaks away.

“My little girl.” He smiles and it’s _radiant_. “You did it. I’m so proud of you, I’m so proud of you!”

Flayn looks around and she sees the other Olympians approaching her and the other two who medalled. They’re patting her back, ruffling her head, saying praises and encouraging words. Flayn can’t believe it, it’s almost like a dream. Every one of them, all these amazing people who can do things Flayn’s never dreamed of, are congratulating her.

And some steps ahead, Rhea’s come down as well and she’s let Seteth wrap her in a hug, proudness escaping his eyes and rolling down his face. Rhea’s eyes are bright as Flayn looks at her across the crowd and she smiles.

As the dozens of cameras point her way, Flayn finds her eyes and smiles back, feeling like she’s never felt before - her chest full of pride and her eyes full of _stars_.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a TON of fun writing Jeritza and Yuri's dynamic, Flayn being wholesome and Byleth's deep motives & personality!  
> Many thanks to Quali and Ash for inviting me to join this project! I'd never participated in such collaborative work and it's been a truly wonderful and rewarding experience. I had an absolute awesome time :)  
> This chapter would've been a mess without the excellent help of @/Byleth's crocs , she's been extremely nice and helpful beta-ing my draft so 456789 kudos to her :) !  
> Also big thanks as well to everyone in the Fodlan Olympics Discord server, it's been lovely to meet you all and I've had a great time talking with you. You're all excellent writers and better people.  
> And that's all! Thank you for reading and for letting me be a part of this extraordinary project! :)


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